The Stars Above
by TheYmp
Summary: Sam and Dean have always found solace in watching the stars above. Set following the season 12 finale. Written for the 2017 SPN-SummerGen.


**Disclaimer: I don't own** **_Supernatural_** **or its characters - these were created by Eric Kripke - I'm just borrowing them. I'm not making any commercial gain. No harm or infringement intended.**

**_Sam and Dean have always found solace in watching the stars above._**

**Written for the 2017 SPN-SummerGen on LiveJournal. Padaleksi's prompt was:** **_"Sam and Dean have a habit of stargazing – when and how did that start?"_**

**Everything I know about astronomy is thanks to a couple of hours of procrastination on Google! This page helped: ****oneminuteastronomer "dot" com "slash" ****9953/summer-night-sky-northern-hemisphere. Please forgive the inevitable inaccuracies.**

~#~

**The Stars Above**

**_"Oh telescope, keep an eye on my only hope  
Lest I blink and be swept off the narrow road  
Hercules, you've got nothing to say to me  
'Cause you're not the blinding light that I need"_**

**_\- 'Galaxies',_** **_Owl City_**

Lying side-by-side, stretched out on the roof of the Impala and looking up at the night sky was a new thing they'd never risked before. Even then, it was only after Dean had carefully inspected their clothes for anything that might scratch the paintwork. It turned out okay; their jeans were the cheap kind that didn't have rivets.

The current heatwave had started a week ago, and the temperature hadn't eased much by night. Dean sighed as he tried to remain as motionless as possible, yet still catch the faint, fleeting trace of the cool night breeze.

It was good to get out of the claustrophobic, stuffy motel. They'd been stuck in the back of the Impala for what had seemed like an unending journey permanently in the direct glare of the sun's scorching rays. Once they'd snuck out of the room, they'd found there wasn't much to sit on, and Dean had barely managed to steer his brother away from the litter of broken syringes dotting the only available dry patch of grass.

That was all it had taken for their eyes to instinctively turn to the one stable thing in their life, the closest they had to a real home and the only place they had ever really felt safe.

Dean wriggled to get comfortable against the still-warm metal, as Sam sought out his usual position tucked under his arm. Ignoring the occasional dig in the ribs with stoicism borne of the long-suffering of little brothers, Dean stared blindly up at the sky as he wondered where his father was, while hoping that in turn Sam wouldn't keep asking him.

John was out on a hunt and when - '_if,'_ a rebellious part of Dean's mind hissed - he came back no doubt he'd be three sheets to the wind and beyond caring. It hadn't always been this way, but while grief and righteous anger is a heady fuel that burns long and hot, it still only gets you so far before it consumes you.

Dean might not have the words to express it, but he had an instinctive understanding of how his family worked, even if he didn't always want to admit it to himself. They were older now, Sam didn't engender the same levels of concern in their father that he used to. On the contrary, John was usually relieved not to be walking into yet another argument.

_Enough_, Dean closed his eyes, took a deep breath to help clear his insubordinate thoughts, before reopening them anew. Away from the dimly lit motel, the stars were spread out before them like diamonds on black velvet. Dean couldn't help but smile, the sight reminding him of the countless times Bobby had pointed out the names of the constellations in his old scrap car yard with an ancient set of binoculars. Turns out the old man could add amateur astronomer to the list of his many skills. _Amazing what you end up learning when you don't have a working TV_, he thought.

Dean shifted, nudging Sam out of near-slumber. "See that there," he said, using his arm to guide his brother's sight to three of the brightest stars in the sky directly overhead. "That's called the Summer Triangle."

Sam made a sleepy, but interested noise. "The only one I know is Orion," he yawned, a moment later.

"He's not the only hunter that doesn't like this heat," huffed Dean, in amusement. "You'll only see him in Winter. _Part-timer._"

"Those ones look like a cross," said Sam, moving Dean's arm towards the top left of the area he'd previously pointed out.

"Yeah," breathed Dean, looking down to see that Sam had already slipped back into a light doze. "The Northern Cross," he recalled. As he spoke, there was the faintest hint of a breeze.

Dean decided to take that as a blessing and a sign. _Surely the worst of our life must be over?_ He was certain that one day, _soon_, it would all be okay.

~#~

Bobby had left Dean happily puttering around with one of the old wreckers in the yard and had gone searching for Sam. He finally found him tucked away in a small rickety armchair hidden behind piles of dusty books and papers, his nose deep in a book on astronomy.

_That boy is just too darn small for his age_, he worried, newly aware the child had been suffering regular beatings and name-calling at school. The _little_ _darlings_ apparently called him 'shrimp' and took delight in tormenting someone much smaller than them; until Dean had stepped in to put the fear of God into them, that is. _And oh boy, hadn't that triggered its own set of problems_, he sighed.

He'd offered for John to leave the boys with him, but the man had scowled at him suspiciously and turned him down. Well, after he'd thrown a couple of drunken punches and accused Bobby of trying to steal his children.

An angry John was not something to take lightly, and Bobby had seen more than his fair share of horrors, but he'd managed to calm John down. The unrepentant hunter had justified it with a rant that the boys were all he had. Bobby knew better than anyone that you often don't truly appreciate the people in your life until they were gone - maybe that was why he enjoyed having the boys around. _It's a darn sight easier to play the kindly uncle-type than the stern taskmaster for a father_, he concurred, but it still pained him seeing John making the same mistakes time and time again.

He knew John meant well by not staying in one place to keep the boys safe, and Bobby wasn't a complete idjit, he recognized the evidence of dark forces at work; even if they'd so far eluded further detection. But normal day-to-day living still carried on regardless, and he couldn't imagine it made it any easier for Sam and Dean to make friends given their unconventional lifestyle.

It had definitely made Sammy shy and bookish. _And quick_. In both senses of the word.

"Whatcha doing back here?" Bobby asked, grinning at the sight of the small boy dwarfed behind the giant book.

"I'm reading about astronomy," replied Sammy, without looking up.

Bobby knew about their regular night time excursions and, while he'd had an epic panic of cardiac arresting proportions the first time he'd found their beds empty in the middle of the night, he thought a little time alone for brotherly bonding wasn't such a bad idea.

"So I can know more about them than even Dean," Sam said excitedly, flicking back through the pages to re-check a particular definition.

Bobby cleared his throat and rubbed one hand across his grizzled features. "I thought the star gazing was more your brother's thing."

Sam looked up at last. "Yeah, he knows loads about this stuff." He wrinkled his nose. "And he says _I'm_ the science nerd."

Bobby sighed and shifted a pile of papers so he could seat himself opposite at eye level. "Yeah, he does. So I'm gonna ask you to leave it, and let Dean have this."

"But Dad always says we have to work hard to be the best," whined Sam.

Bobby barked with laughter. "So _now_ you're deciding to obey your father?" He paused for a moment, watching the expression on the young boy's face carefully before he continued in a soft voice. "Is it something you think you'd even need on a hunt?"

Sam studied him back before nodding his dawning understanding. "He needs to be needed."

"You _are_ the bright one," Bobby chuckled, slapping Sammy on the knee.

~#~

"You know, they're the same stars wherever you are," said Sam, breaking the silence.

Dean turned his head as far as he could to the left to give Sam a funny look. Sometimes the advantage of lying side-by-side on top of the Impala was the difficulty it posed in actually looking at each other. It made the whole talking-about-feelings thing much easier - well, that was Dean's mileage, anyway - and his brother's odd twitchy behavior all day made it blindingly obvious that Sam wanted to talk to him about _something_. Of all the things he'd imagined Sam might announce - _Like coming out, say_ \- it hadn't been _that_. "Well, duh. And I thought you were the bright one."

Sam looked on the verge of arguing for a moment, before swallowing back down whatever it was that had stuck in his craw.

Dean sighed and decided he'd only get to the real issue if he played his assigned part. "Yeah, out here it might look like a Christmas tree all lit up there, but don't forget in the city the light pollution blocks the view," he said, surprising himself with the fervor in his voice. Although, maybe not that shocking given Bobby had himself expressed some very strong opinions on the matter.

Whatever the source of the opinion, it was obviously the wrong thing to say judging from the way Sammy's forehead furrowed. "Just 'cause you can't see something, doesn't mean it's not there," scowled Sam.

"Typical of city dwellers," tutted Dean. "They can't see what's going on right in front of them and they forget what's really out there."

"Maybe that's the best way to be," said Sam darkly, his frown getting deeper.

"Melodramatic much?" laughed Dean, the sound falling flat and sounding too loud in the otherwise silence.

"The reply came from Stanford," said Sam quietly.

Dean's smile flickered, falling away from his eyes and leaving his features pinched. "Oh?" If he was aiming for nonchalance, he had missed by miles.

"I got the scholarship, a full ride," Sam said, trying, but failing, to reign in his excitement.

Dean's smile died.

~#~

Dean couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Sam had changed somehow in his years at Stanford. Maybe he was just more independent. _Which is good, don't get me wrong_. But Dean couldn't help missing the little shrimp who'd followed him around like a lost puppy and hung on his every word.

He really hadn't expected his brother to have a live-in girlfriend; that had thrown him almost as much as the shocking feelings of jealousy her presence had triggered in him. He'd barely restrained himself from roaring at her: "He's _mine_, you can't have him." Instead, he'd covered by flirting with her; better they think he'd violated the bro-code than realize he was some kind of pathetic, overly-possessive loser.

Then the fire happened and Jess died. _Boy, if I felt like a loser before..._

He fretted constantly that he was going to finally lose his brother, Sam's vision was too clouded with smoke and vengeance to want to spend time looking at stars. Sometimes it felt like things were gradually clearing between them, but Dean knew he'd inevitably do or say something that would either push Sam away or make him explode. With his single-driven purpose, Sam was so much like their Dad, it was frightening.

So Sam's death wasn't unexpected. Oh, the timing and the circumstances were completely out of the blue, but the potential for that death was a too-heavy burden that Dean had carried with him for a very, very long time. In an obscene way, it was almost a blessed relief for the waiting to finally be over.

He didn't have to think about it, he instinctively knew what he had to do. _Save Sammy_. He was still back there, following orders, carrying his brother out of that burning house. And always would be.

So when he kissed the crossroads demon, eyes clamped tightly shut and trying not to gag from the pungent stench of sulfur on her breath, he knew that the choking smoke from that house would cover the stars for many more years to come.

~#~

They say that Hell is the absence of God. Dean could attest to that. There was no sun or moon or stars there either. Just blood and shattered bone and the gristle of rendered flesh.

The pain was almost welcome. _Almost_. At least it proved he existed

He held on to the stars in his mind, but over time, one by one they were extinguished. After thirty years or so, he had forgotten such a thing even existed.

Until the day a celestial being came crashing down into his world. He cringed away from the purifying energy that radiated from the entity as it reached out towards him. It's brighter-than-bright light distorted the reality of all around them, the contrast making the horror of their surroundings seem so much darker and filthier than was already the case.

Something tickled at the back of his mind. His vocal cords were torn and ravaged from the perpetual screaming, but somehow he still managed to speak his first word in over ten years.

"_Sammy?_"

~#~

His return to earth wasn't the triumphant homecoming deserved by a great hero fated to save the world from the Apocalypse. _But then again, I'm no hero_. It all seemed like more duty he didn't want, greater pressure to succeed to live up to, and just a different interpretation of torture.

Unspoken resentments on both sides meant things grew strained between him and Sam, but he was too broken to known even how to start to fix it. His brother seemed so lost - Sam now had Ruby, but he'd just swapped one type of smoke for another. It might be contained within a meat sack, but it still clouded his brother's sight.

Slowly, but surely, Castiel became like the brother Dean was slowly losing. He didn't miss the irony of taking a literally feathered being under his figurative wing.

While Sam sought his 'secret' late-night assignations, Castiel and Dean continued the tradition of stargazing. They played the same kind of roles, just a little different; Dean pointed out the stars and detailed the legends behind their names, while Castiel described what they were actually like.

_A little different describes Cas to a T_, thought Dean, as he stared at his friend in a way that would've felt weird or too-intimate with anyone else. Neither of them had ever really had a friend before, and with the too-long gazing, it was like they were trying to see something deep down in the other. _Was it Sam?_

Dean wondered what Castiel was looking for, until the angel effectively told him by asking for, and then returning, the amulet. It was maybe a step too far. _I am, seriously, nobody's god_, and he found himself pulling away while longing for Sam's independence.

"So is there really nobody else out there? Anywhere?" asked Dean, waving up at the night sky, exasperated after yet another of his epic tales of heroism was quashed with the explanation that the star inspiring it had recently died.

Castiel hummed a sad agreement. "There were a few short-lived experiments here and there, but nothing that really took off the way it did here."

"That's kinda sad; to think we're the only ones in the whole universe. I always enjoyed _Star Trek_," said Dean, misinterpreting the confused look he got in return. "The _original series_ of course, not the _Next Generation_. Although Deanna was kinda hot."

Castiel shook his head and steered the conversation back to something he could follow. "At least there's no currying favor to be God's most favored."

"Been there done that with Chuck - not so sure it's such a great thing," muttered Dean, before deciding to change the subject. "So if it's dead, how come I can still see it?" he baited.

Castiel explained at great length before he noticed Dean's eyelids starting to droop. "Light takes time to travel the great distances involved," he summarized.

"Dead light," mused Dean. "Do you think it knows it's already over while it's on its way? But just keeps going on in case?"

"That's not how it works," said Castiel, gently,

"What's it like, flying out there?" asked Dean, wistfully. He felt sad, with all the melancholy of a mostly dead and lifeless universe on his shoulders. Somehow it made the burden of saving the world that much worse.

"It doesn't really translate into something humans can comprehend. We don't even really have wings in the sense that you think of them - they don't manifest in the physical realm - it's just how your brain and physical matter interprets them."

"Just answer the question," Dean teased.

Castiel sighed. "In that case I'd have to say that it's cold and empty."

"Oh, way to go spoil the mood."

Castiel looked almost upset. "Except," he amended. "When you do go too near a star, they're huge, blinding, pouring out heat and energy, magnificent and terrifying, all while pulling you in closer. They're as near to grace as you'd get outside of Heaven."

"_Awesome_," sighed Dean, satisfied.

~#~

Sam passed him a beer. Dean nodded his thanks and leaned back on the Impala. He closed his eyes for a moment while he rubbed the bridge of his nose. So much had happened, so many lost; it was all too much to process.

Sam gave him several side-eye glances, it was clear he wanted to say something but was unsure how to broach the subject. Dean was quite aware how volatile he could be, he was just grateful his brother knew him well enough to know when not to push him.

A fast-moving light streaked across the sky_. That's how angels go out_, thought Dean, his heart aching from loss. _Like fireworks, like shooting stars_.

Castiel's death had been sudden and shocking. _Isn't every death? You'd think I'd know better by now than to get close to people_. But he knew it wasn't in his nature not to let others in, just like he knew it wasn't in his nature to necessarily let them know it, either.

"Make a wish," Sam huffed awkwardly, searching for any excuse to break the silence.

Dean snorted and took a deep draft of his beer. "Really? I think I'm done with wishing for anything."

As they watched, a new star bloomed in the sky, just to the right of the Northern Cross. It gradually grew until it was by far the brightest of all those around it.

"Wow, is that..?" commented Sam, wide-eyed.

"Constellation of Cygnus," muttered Dean, more to himself. "Right in the wing too; seems appropriate for an angel."

Dean raised his bottle in salute to the newly formed star. "That's not supposed to have been due for a few more years, so I'm totally naming it," he added in an aside to his brother.

Sam nodded and clinked his beer bottle against his Dean's.

"_Castiel_."

Sam laid a hand on Dean's shoulder. It was a small token of affection, but it meant the world to Dean who returned the gesture. Together they gazed up at the heavens and for once felt comfortable at the thought that out there, _somewhere_, one of that number might be watching them back.

~#~

**_"Dear God, I was terribly lost  
When the galaxies crossed, and the Sun went dark  
But dear God, you're the only North Star  
I would follow this far"_**

**_\- 'Galaxies',_** **_Owl City_**

~#~

**_A/N: The visible appearance of a new star, KIC9832227, is expected in 2022 and for a couple of years will be one of the brightest stars in the night sky._**

(;,;)


End file.
